Hands
by Hillary Izzy Blair
Summary: Katniss's mother has recently passed away. One-shot. Contains a verse from You Begin by Margaret Atwood.


A man dressed in black opens the car door for us. I get in first, Rose following close behind me. Peeta lifts TJ in and then shuts the door behind him. The rain starts to fall, leaving dots of water on the windshield. The man gets in the front seat of the car and starts to drive toward the cemetery. It's a short drive, but long enough for my thoughts to get too crowded in my brain.

Carefully stepping out of the car, I blink back tears. I try to focus on helping Rose out safely. Peeta comes around to where we are and immediately wraps his arms around me. It's in this moment of feeling safe and warm that I break. I put my arms around Peeta, letting him rub my back and hold me close.

"Shh, Katniss, it'll be okay." He whispers so the kids don't hear. I appreciate how he doesn't try to tell me that it's okay right now, but it will be in the future. I nod against his chest, getting tears on his suit jacket. Eventually I stop crying and he kisses my temple a couple times.

Peeta lets go of me and takes my hand in his. It's big and strong, not to mention callused. He squeezes my shaking hand reassuringly while I carefully wipe tears from my eyes without smudging the eyeliner.

"Rose, hold Mama's hand." Peeta tells our daughter who immediately obeys. Her hand is cold and delicate, but her grip is strong. I know that on the other side of Peeta, TJ will have a sweaty and grubby hold on at least two of my husband's fingers.

That's how we stand to walk to the grave: hand in hand. Each of our hands is so different, but that doesn't matter. We are a family. I know that I would do anything to be holding those hands, even if they change over the years, even if TJ's hand becomes just as cracked as mine or Peeta's becomes old and lined, even if Rose doesn't want her hand to be held. I will hold it.

We start across the grassy land to get to where my mother's grave will be.

"Mama, I want up." Rose whines, lifting her free arm up to me.

"You're too old for that, Rosie," Peeta says for me. He doesn't trust my voice and neither do I.

"I want up!" She starts stomping her feet and I know that's a sign of a temper tantrum. I let go of Peeta's hand to pick her up. I have no interest in tantrums today. The little black shoes that Tink and Gale got her for Christmas are already dirty, and they leave streaks of mud and gravel on my black dress. I don't care, though. If Rose wants to be held by her mother, she should get to. I would have wanted it when I was her age, too. I still want it. Rose leans her head on my shoulder and I run my fingers through the curled ends of her hair. My prep team outdid themselves with her. Under my instruction, they didn't over-do anything. She looks like an angel.

I have to set her down when we get to the grave. A minister is waiting for us, holding an umbrella. Almost immediately, Rose spots Haymitch coming across the cemetery. She tugs on my arm.

"Mama, can I go see Mitch?" She asks, her icy blue eyes getting big. I want nothing more than for her to stay with me, but I don't want her to be upset with me for anything.

"Sure, but be careful in the mud." I kiss the top of her head before she goes racing off to Haymitch. I watch as she goes. Haymitch scoops her up easily, bringing her over.

"How's Rosie today?" I hear him ask her quietly.

"I'm good. I got a new dress." She tells him excitedly, making the corners of my mouth twitch. My daughter couldn't be less like me in that way. Getting new clothes is the highlight of her month, sometimes. Suddenly, Haymitch is standing beside me.

"How are you doing, sweetheart?" He asks, putting a hand on my shoulder. I nod.

"I'm okay." I force a smile that Haymitch sees right through. He kisses my forehead.

"It's alright if I have her?" He looks almost guilty for holding Rose. I nod again. He moves on to shake Peeta's hand and give TJ a high-five. The little boy hardly understands what a high-five is.

Eventually, everyone gets there and the casket is lowered slowly into the ground. Peeta's holding my hand again but that doesn't last long. TJ starts crying, claiming he's getting wet from the rain. He can't stand it, so Peeta picks him and rubs his back to calm him down. It's almost futile.

Meanwhile, Rose is putting up a good fight with Haymitch. I hear her exclaim that she wants to go exploring. Haymitch does a really good job of disciplining her, especially considering he lets her do whatever her heart desires. I watch it happen. She yanks harder on his hand than he anticipates and she goes flying to the ground. All of a sudden, I have two crying kids.

I feel tears sting my eyes. Haymitch picks Rose up and hands her over to Winnow who rocks her. I want to be holding my daughter. I want her to have a mother who comforts her when she cries. I want her to have a mother who is present, not depressed into insanity. I won't let myself become my mother.

Peeta notices my wet eyes and tries to wipe them away. TJ doesn't appreciate the sudden discomfort of not being a hundred percent protected from the rain. Peeta quickly takes his hand away from me to stop TJ from crying.

I feel like I'm standing in front of the Cornucopia in the 74th Hunger Games. No one is visibly on my side. No one is coming to help me. I'm alone. I don't have my family. I don't have my friends. I have the option of risking my life to get a bow or running to the woods and hiding. That's how I feel now: like I have two options and none of them are acceptable, but one of them has to be right.

The ceremony ends faster than I expect. Hazelle comes over to take TJ from Peeta. She says that we're all invited for lunch at her place. She can take the kids for us if we want. I give her a quick hug, thanking her profusely. I'm holding on for dear life right now. I can't hold back these tears forever.

Rose and TJ go willingly with Hazelle while Peeta keeps me back, waiting for everyone else to leave. He kisses me for a long time. By the time he's pulling away, I'm crying and he looks close to it as well.

"Ready to go?" He asks, tucking hair that has come loose of my bun behind my ear. I shake my head.

"You go ahead. I want a minute." Peeta goes to the car, watching me as I kneel in front of the grave. I don't cry now, not when the situation asks for it. I don't even say anything. Two seconds earlier I had a whole speech to her planned out. It's gone now. It left my brain along with my sanity.

Soon enough, I get up and go to Peeta at the car. He rubs my back, holds my hands tightly. In the car, he promises that he'll do whatever he can this week to make me feel a little bit better. He understands. I know he does. The car pulls away and starts towards Hazelle's house. I turn in my seat to watch the cemetery vanish from view.

"Good bye," I whisper. I remember what it felt like to hold my mother's hand. Hers was always smooth and fragile. I always thought I could break the bones in it if I squeezed too hard. She used to hold my hand when she walked with us to school. She used to swing it back and forth with every step we took. She used to trace circles on my palm and then tickle me. Her hands were not strong, but they were hers. I missed them already.

Peeta wipes away more tears for me, his thumb stroking my cheek gently. I reach up for his hand and squeeze it. "I'm okay." I tell him. I get another kiss. And for once, I really am.

_It begins, it has an end,_

_this is what you will_

_come back to, this is your hand._


End file.
